


The Witch Trials

by xLitheKitty33



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 17th Century, Adjusting to new customs, Alternate Universe - Renaissance, At least the first chapter is dark the rest is unsure, Awkward Customs, Dark, Drama, Elizabethan English, Eventual Romance, F/M, Historical Accuracy, Historical Inaccuracy, Historical basis, I don't know maybe, Magical Compatibility, Monarchy based on Blood Purity, Monarchy structured like England's, Moreso my imagination than the author's original story, No Ministry Of Magic, OOC with some IC Traits, Possible Revolution, Pureblood Culture, Pureblood Society, Pureblood Supremacists, Religious Undertones, Renaissance Culture, Sacred Twenty-Eight, The dialogue is, There will be translations, Very few things based on canon, Which is mentioned very often, Witch Trials, With some additions and OCs because this is like centuries prior to the original, a bit of both, meaning letting it write itself as it goes, racist undertones, still planning the kinks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-03-06 23:45:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13422165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xLitheKitty33/pseuds/xLitheKitty33
Summary: In England during the Renaissance period, there was a steadily increasing number of witch trials, beginning its newfound prevalence in the 1540s to which then peaked in the 1680s-1690s. All of which were based on unreliable methods and accused trials left mysterious 'kidnappings' of some suspected individuals.Hermione Granger was one of them. One of the supposed witches that were to stand on these ridiculous trials and to lose her life. At least, she was supposed to be dead, but there she was on the floor of a luxurious dark manor, still alive. Now, she has to adapt to the culture and the ideals of this society without exposing anything to the wrong people. With her there, the revolution has only begun.





	1. Sweets To The Sweet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From the day Hermione was born, her parents knew she was just different, and yet they loved and hid her anyway, even though it brought them the death they knew was to come. Hermione just knew that something was weird about her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have always loved the Renaissance time period, Elizabethan English, and the witch trials were of a large interest to me, so I decided that I would take the witch trials and weave it into the Harry Potter World with my own twists and possibly change the time period of the original books. The Elizabethan English will have translations in the comments section if needed.  
> Also, there is a mix of Shakespeare's less dramatic phrases and grammar rules along with some everyday Elizabethan English as Shakespeare usually had an over-dramatic tone in his plays to capture attention. I will be including idioms, insults and possibly puns/innuendos and other jokes into the dialogue and writing.

**1484**

On that fateful day, Pope Innocent VIII outwardly deemed witchcraft to be heresy. This was because there was a widespread belief that being a witch or wizard was to conspire with the devil, and the punishment would be death and even possibly torture at some points. The word of the pope was the message of God, and so many believed it. It was a very grave crime to be even accused of being a witch. This was put emphasis on in the later decades of the 17th century.

* * *

It was September 19th, 1670, and Helen Granger had fallen in love all over again.

Her daughter was an angel to exist and dwell on this plain, a sight to behold as she saw her swaddled. Beautiful, her velvety chocolate eyes, a halo of black frizzy hair sat on her head along with pale olive skin. She could feel the pride surge forward, she loved this child. She truly did, it was the only child that she had, the rest had miscarried, or died after birth. This one was a miracle. Her heart was beating quickly and excitedly, even though she was almost in her middle age, she had almost given up on the prospect of a child.

 _"Sweets to the sweet."_ She started lovingly, rocking the curious child in her arms. Her heart continued to swell with glee. "The babe laid upon my breast, my love is thine t' hath and behold. To the heavens and gods, I prithee, give thy blessing upon my babe and allow her t' be oft wrought withal nought but the best. I prithee, I beg, do not deliver her to thy land ere her time!" She softly chanted as she cooed the child that laid in her arms.

Every once in a while strange occurrences did happen. Her mother couldn't put her finger on it, but it might've had something to do with her daughter's oddities. Hermione always had these curious eyes, even when she was only a baby that would open them for a few seconds and then close them again, but she was a very curious child.

As she grew older her beautiful hair began to become a bit frizzier and somewhat lighter. It was a dark shade of brown now. She was very inquisitive, and didn't stay quiet because she was, as they joked, "born years ere her time." They loved her even if so many weird occurrences happened around her. 

* * *

_In the late 10th century, a goodwife and that goodwife lad be force stakes on portrait o'  a sir. Goodwife wast taken t' and drowned a'  London Bridge. As for the goodwife lad, he hath escaped and his due wast t' be outlawed._

Every day she went to church, and at each mass, as of late, there was speak of witches and witches that had been killed. She didn't pay much attention though sometimes as her young brain could not always comprehend some of what they were saying. She tried not to notice but she could always feel as though there was a humming in her chest. She wondered that if it was just her heart? It seemed to happen at only certain times. It was as if something called out from her blood to another. It was an odd entranced sort of feel.

Hermione sought to verse herself well in the church. She thought that one day she would work her way into being a priestess, that was a large goal of hers to influence people with the church that sang love and acceptance. As she grew older she began to see the Catholic church for what it was, becoming cruel and demeaning of those who were of another pretense.

This was only shown to her when her mother had been accused of witchcraft, this bearing reason of having only one young daughter, and because she was a strong woman, unlike many others. Not only that but Hermione had accidentally wished a boy that was blabbering away and not paying attention to the outside lesson to shut up. Her mother, being the only middle-aged woman and adult there, was accused of practicing witchcraft afterwards. Hermione wished she knew what had truly happened. She didn't suspect it could've been her fault. It was his, after all, he had probably ran his voice dry with all that talking.

She could remember her mother's execution, forced to take the horror of reality at only the ripe age of six and the hanging was traumatizing. She watched as her mother was shoved up a step and then had her head placed through the noose. 

"Get the witch to hell! Get her t' hell!" They chanted but all she could hear was the humming in blood again. 

They tightened the noose and she freaked out as her father placed a hand on her shoulder. The step was taken and she was suspended only by her neck. She had bruises forming along and all over her neck and she was struggling, bringing her hands to the noose which only made it tighten. 

Hermione couldn't look anymore, but when she peaked through her fingers again her mother had gone limp. 

"The witch is gone!"

* * *

Hermione often could not stop talking about her mother. She showcased her opinion in the public, unafraid of other's thoughts. She really was her mother's daughter. 

"Madame hath oft said  _Love all, trust a few, and do wrong to none,_ yet alas, she hath be hanged ere be wrong done, sir!"

"Aye, she oft prate o' Shakespeare. Prithee, my child, 'tis insulting to ado ope o' thou wanton belief, keep thy thoughts to thee." He begged as he held his bright daughter's hand. 

She nodded absently and heeded his warning. Staying quiet, at least outside the comfort of their home. He endured the pain with her when they went inside. 

The 'incidents,' as everyone called it, did not stop. 

* * *

Hermione made another mistake. 

She didn't mean to. 

She didn't even know she was doing it.

Sometimes what she wished for just happened! 

Her father paid for it this time, after all, no one trusted the family since her mother had been suspected. 

Her father was to be burned at the stake. 

It was for an accident. She didn't want to think about it. 

The flesh, the charring, and burning smell. It was too strong as it wafted through the area. She felt as though she was going to be sick and throw up. There was a reason they didn't hold many burnings. 

Why would they ever sully an innocent child's eyes to have them watch even their parents be killed as a part of the witch hunts? She didn't know. She was seven years old at the time.

Perhaps this was to make an example, especially to the child of the supposed 'sorcerer' and 'witch'. 

* * *

She didn't enjoy this time in her life, it was different and difficult to fit in with the rest of the children in the orphanage. They didn't like her, it was a mess and they thought the least of a girl from a family that practiced witchcraft. Hermione didn't believe in witchcraft, but if it were real she would condemn it and send them to the church to where they can handle the menace. Magic was unnatural, no one was born with magic or anything.

Whenever she spoke out of turn the orphanage lady would start to beat her, flog her, she would try anything until it hurt for Hermione to just sit down. She took it all. 

She remembered vividly wishing they would stop fighting over the book that was supposed to be  _hers,_  and suddenly it had appeared in her hands. Everyone stared, and then what happened was a blurr.

The orphanage lady was tugging at her ear, pulling her out. She had turned nine years old that day.

"No sympathy against the witch!"

She was taken to a church that day where she was beaten. 

* * *

Everyday was a new beating. A new whipping. A new flogging. Something terrifying. She would bruise and sometimes the welts would swell.

She almost couldn't understand what they were saying anymore. 

Something about a conven and who were the rest. She really didn't know anything. 

They soon left her there, and she cried silently. It hurt to walk, to sit down, to almost anything so she laid there on her side when they left. They stopped beating her. 

She realized they had given up and would've smiled triumphantly if not for the harsh hand that grabbed her arm and pulled her up. She winced and realized she might bruise from that. 

When was the last time she had a meal? She realized she was very hungry as she was being dragged off. 

She sent a prayer for her parents and for those like her to come. She looked around her, almost thinking had it truly been a year since she stepped foot outside? 

* * *

"Sweets to the sweet!" They had mocked vehemently, the words ringing in her ears.

"Free!" This was her goodbye.

"Another down!" She had been definitely found guilty, especially as they tied down her ankles and hands and then tossed her into the water.

"Sweets to the sweet!" She shivered from the cold seeping into her body and teasing out the warmth.

"Free!" It really was a cold January, and it was the first of the new year.

"Another down!" They repeated the chants for a long time, she couldn't tell how truly long that this had dragged on.

"Begone, good riddance!" There was always a witch trial on the first day of new year, to them it meant luck in new witch hunts.

 _"Sweets to the sweet!"_ It was the end for her. She almost felt pity, or perhaps that was anger as she blacked out, seeing nothing but black.

* * *

"Fie, fie on it the vile wretches that hath sought to dispatch thee. Thou art hither, I beg thou hath be well." She could hear it as she approached the light, confused. She hadn't ever heard this voice before but something in her veins called out to him, as though she had known him since forever. It was similar to the humming feel she would get every once in a while. 

It seemed to be only seconds after that and she could not understand. She was alive, wasn't she? At ten years old she had almost died.

"Sir, she hath stirred!" She heard a young voice call out to her, and she could feel that thing in her veins call again, humming with delight.

"Whence...am I?" she hesitantly and softly asked. She almost didn't recognize her own voice as her eyes fluttered. 

She was quickly met with the face of a pale boy, dressed in impossibly fancy robes signifying he was of the status, at least, of the son of an earl. He looked to be her age and he seemed very serious, what truly happened?

Another thing to wonder upon was why was she still be alive? It was impossible, wasn't it?

"You hath passed the barrier now. I beg you art safe now, by my troth and honor. Wards allowed you entry, hither 'tis a wizard adobe' as you mayhap many questions?"

She felt as though she would faint. At ten years old, she found out that witches were real, and that she was actually probably a witch. 

The very people that if she had even had an inkling of an idea that they were real she would have condemned them herself years ago. Maybe even now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep starting stories due to writer's block even though I have everything for the story planned, sometimes I kinda lose it in a way. I know where the end goal is but the middle goals are harder to form so I take longer to flesh it out (such as the case with Wounds And Trauma. Predetermined and The Witch Trials are to help me continue writing and clear my thoughts for Wounds And Trauma before I start writing it again.)  
> I really do love this story or at least the idea of it.


	2. Half the Journey to Becoming Gay Blade & Deeds Much Like One Hopefully

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco was born into a family of wealth due to their ties to both the wizarding world's supposed kingdom and their social standing with King Charles II. Draco begins his journey as the first Malfoy to ever take the path towards knighthood, and he chooses to do so in both the muggle side and in the wizarding world, that is he then finds a strange hum calling out to him through the magic in his veins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally I had something else planned out, but the fact that I found out that the Malfoys had actually integrated themselves into high-class muggle society until a bit after 1692, when the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy was passed. It changed just a little bit.  
> In this story, it is not an international pursuit/law, but the slow progression of each differing wizarding communities isolating themselves is due to the various peaks of witch trials. Such as for example in Italy, the witch trials peaked in the early 16th century as opposed to the late 17th century in England. Despite its somewhat isolated location with these trials, the Italian wizarding community moved fast to isolate themselves and then there was a large movement within Italy using reason to rebuke the existence of witches.  
> This one just focuses on England's isolation from the muggle community, rather than any of the other European countries, or America. This will be happening earlier and there will be some issue with the quick action that England tries to take after there has been an influx of killed witches and wizards from the magical registry administered by the wizarding community.  
> 

Since 1540, the wizarding community in Britain had begun to flourish due to the passing of a new, new translation to the bible, which was also a cause for the new witch trials. There were a few divides of people. On one side, there were those who choose to live in the recently made barrier and those that choose to continue their integration into muggle society. The Malfoy family were part of the rare unacknowledged few that had kept with the wizarding monarchy and had integrated themselves into muggle society and not only that but one of high standing. They believed that having multiple areas of influence was very important and while they had a higher standing in the muggle community they still participated in events and important meetings with the wizarding monarchy. 

When Lucius Malfoy II made the smart decision to marry Narcissa Black, a countess to the monarchy, currently the Gaunt Family was on the throne, due to her family's more willingness to inbreed than most others, they had more than one reason to rise of a higher rank. They were respected, after all, even if their ideas were less accepted among the purebloods. The Malfoys did not believe in that but blood purity was somewhat regulated, allowing no muggles into their family, with very few half-bloods and even fewer muggleborns. It also helped that their motto was Sanctimonia Vincet Semper, their original intention with the meaning Purity Will Always Conquer, was the purity of heart and of mind, but as the witch trials became a more frequent fear, it became more about blood purity.

Many followed the Malfoy family's idea in the 1540s, which was a belief that there was no immediate danger and so they had stayed integrated and among the muggles until 1678. While his parents had moved into the barrier they did not cut their connections to the muggle king, Charles II. This may have been because they were scared of the fact their son could be accused of witchcraft due to the outbursts of magic young children had, and Draco's outbursts, even at the age of five, was very hard to control, stronger than even some of those rare people who had their magic compatible partner even in proximity, he had been almost accused once but they figured out how to rule it as some coincidence. They often set up a similar barrier to their home, but the difference was that it only allowed muggles and the like to enter if given permission, whether it is verbally given or not. That was until 1678, where they moved into the barrier then. 

Often times, while there were meetings that his parents attended, Draco held himself in the knight's hall watching the knights, joust, duel and even got to watch to some sort of squire and page activities that were required before knighthood. He was very observant during these rare treats. He wanted to study as a knight, he looked up to these "gay blades" with a large amount of adoration and admiration ever since he was five, but he couldn't become a page until two years passed and then be moved up to a squire when he was at least fourteen years old. He was certain that he would only be able to over the summer in the muggle world but that would not work. His father had taken his training upon himself, in secret of course and his father often praised him saying that he just had a natural affinity for it, perhaps he would be lucky enough to join either the knightly court of King Charles II or of King Thomas Gaunt in his late teens. He knew his father was exaggerating, no one younger than twenty-one was appointed.

When he was soon to be seven years old, he was offered a position as a page. His admiration took the charm of a particular knight who was very elusive on King Charles II's court and an offer from King Thomas's court, but he didn't know which to accept. Either would have been interesting. When he had moved he found he was also very interested in the knightly affairs of the wizarding world, they had such fantastical swordsmanship due to a unique mix of magic, wands, and swords. There was the training to use both hands and be able to bond to the magical sword that was very similar to a wand.

There were three variations of knights, and it was of their own choosing. Some decided to keep their wands and as such were paired with a knight that choose a magical sword. There were those who liked to have both and those who had a wand or sword that could morph into either at will. Some wizard knights liked to carry all three variations along with a required charmed shield, building up their charms as they gained experience. 

He tried to decide, should he choose both? Should he choose only Sir Gerald Rowle? Or should he choose only Sir Letholdus, the elusive knight? He tried to approach his father for advice and he shook his head saying that Draco must decide for himself and that he didn't know of the semantics only having taken up swordsmanship for a hobby, no prior Malfoys went on to become a knight, so he had to figure it out and set the precedent.

He finally made the decision of taking both apprenticeships, reason one was to keep up appearances in the muggle side and the other was to be able to compare the differences between the two knightly matters in the wizarding world and in Muggle Britain. When he was seven his parents also warned him of spending extensive time in the muggle world due to the directions their meetings were beginning to take with renewed hostility for their kind.

* * *

Draco continued to sneak away to the muggle world despite his parent's warnings due to the information they gathered and had been relaying to the wizarding community. He continued his studies with Sir Letholdus, who somewhat knew of his odd circumstances and allowed him to flexibly work for him throughout the week. He spent more time under Sir Gerald to learn the tricks to magic that would be useful in his duties, he was not a natural at those, but he had been spending more time in the day for Sir Letholdus and nights for Sir Gerald. He was truly lucky to have Sir Letholdus as an understanding person and would thank him very often to the point where sometimes Sir Letholdus told him he needn't be so grateful, as any gentleman would do so. Sir Gerald didn't understand the need to stay on the muggle side of things, but the Malfoy name was what kept him from questioning further, after all, most purebloods followed their example. The Rowles were of a naturally higher rank than the Malfoys which could have been part of the confusion.

Draco knew better about how some treated their pages with disdain if something were wrong, but then again Draco hadn't made a mistake yet, so he was in the clear. Today was another day he was to accompany Sir Letholdus to the same village that was quite far away.

That village apparently harbored his family and his lover who bore his children. His wife was too weak to make the move with him. 

As he passed through their thin barrier, he could feel a faint hum call to him, stronger than it had ever been before. His magic inside of him stirred as if there were a grave storm to pass. He hadn't even started the long trek it took before he could reach even the slightest intensity of humming. Somehow he just knew this person that kept calling out to him was in danger.

He had spoken to his parents about the times he could feel his magic hum in response to something but he couldn't recall what it was. They had told him that it was his magic recognizing the call of someone with compatible magical power nearby that could rival his own — his equal. He didn't understand it and it was the only way he had communicated with the person but he wasn't too interested, he thought that perhaps it could have been a mistake, because that was just a legend, there was one in a millionth chance someone was able to find their equal, no, not even one in a millionth, one in a trillionth, perhaps there was an even slimmer chance. Most of the people that have their equal are twins or some variation of that sort. The other ones were very rare and took years to find. They would live more than half their lives not knowing who it was that was their true equal.

Today he ventured further than he ever dared, at the allowance of Sir Letholdus of course. He allowed him to go around the village, saying it was a good idea to become acquainted with the people of the village. He knew that Sir Letholdus trusted him after four years of admiring his craft in which half of those he spent working as a page for him.

The humming grew stronger, reverberating in his chest.

He tried his best to walk in a way that would not stir attention to him. The humming lead him to a clearing where a girl was humming the same tune that continued to haunt him in his dreams and in waking hours that made him obsessed with this side of the society. She was inside a cage, with a tear-stricken face and indecent wear that had been torn. Her ankles were chained to a post and she didn't look well-fed.

Her black hair, or was that a really dark shade of brown, was a mess of frizzy waves, draping around her like a halo as she sat back. He had never seen a woman, no a girl, nor any female with loosened hair. It was considered improper and possibly even the marking of — a witch — something akin to supernatural connotations. He listened to her soft voice begin to echo the tune on a string of vocalizations. Which then turned into a frustrated scream. And then the frustrated screamed turned into sizzling as he turned the corner and watched — horrified — as the word 'witch' was burned into her skin right on her forearm. She was then whipped, and then they broke her delicate ankles easily. Was this a witch trial? Some sort of torture? He didn't think that the muggles were actually barbaric enough to worry about this. 

He watched as she fainted, and the man stalked away satisfied before tying her again. This time the humming rung in his ears it overpowered all the other sounds. This time, there were choked sobs amidst all her lovely hums.

He ran and didn't look back, maybe he did for half a second but that didn't count — at least not to him.

He tried to focus, and he was back, his knight had seemed to notice he was making mistakes that did not fit his usual precise actions.

"Sirrah."

"Aye, Sir Letholdus?"

"Wherefore art thine owe mind to be out o' thy head and tasks?"

"My bosom is heavy withal witness of anguish against a wench, Sir Letholdus."

Sir Letholdus left it at that knowing that with this man he had known it was best not to question him when he was in such a mood. While he was concerned for his servant he did not make a word, he learned that this young man was a lot like him matters such as these.

"Sirrah, sith thou art out o' sorts, adieu. Hie aroint. Thou hath done enow." Sir Letholdus dismissed him.

Draco didn't question it as he went home and went to endure training with Sir Gerald now, trying to compare the different things he had done for both now to keep his mind off the misery he felt while thinking of that girl and the fact that her humming continued to overpower his senses even as it was fading away.

* * *

It was awhile, or maybe the next day, his sense of time was a little messed up after the incident as he spent a lot time thinking since then, before he came back to the isolated village that she had been at. It wasn't under Sir Letholdus' orders but he had to go see her again, to see if maybe she was alright.

The humming was dangerous now, prickling as he got closer, was today even more dangerous than the day prior? He could hear chants of "Sweets to the sweet." and more. He decided to hide away until they had all left as he watched her drift and float downstream. She almost seemed to be sinking as she was shivering and grew pale, her pale lips soon turning to purple.

They were far enough away that he quickly without a thought took her out of the water. The humming and pricking feel had settled and a wave of calm eluded over him.

While his white-blonde hair was not long even though that was fashionable, it stuck to his forehead and over the nape of his neck. Slowly he could see breaths and light risings of her small chest as she finally took proper air rather than half air and water. 

He was relieved but soon realized that if anyone had caught him with this girl that could mean the end for him as well, so he wordlessly refigured her clothing, much like how he had learned during tasks for Sir Gerald who kept his things strictly magical, to clothing much more suitable of a beautiful girl like her. It was much easier with her around. Too easy, could his parents have been right? He pulled the curls of her hair into a stylish updo with magic to ensure she was not recognizable. She began to stir he noticed, and quickly picked her up in his arms bridal style.  

* * *

Narcissa Malfoy did not know what to make of it when her son had come home one day, with a young girl carried in his arms, that was just indecent by the way for a boy of his age! She looked to be sick and passed out, but she was beautiful, her black hair falling in waves even as it was pulled up intricately. His mother and father had no idea what he had been doing with this young maiden, but they had quickly brought them back to their home and laid her on a soft cushion of the floor. His mother and father had known him to be kind lad on the outside as was expected of him, but he was only nine years old for goodness sakes, they didn't think any suitable ladies yet!

"Draco, what art thee thought? Who is the fair maiden?" HIs father demanded, and Narcissa placed a hand on him to calm him down. He seemed to relax but was still rigid with a stance of authority.

"A maiden a' the witch trials the muggles hath been held frequently. I would not wish that on the dearest of my foes."

"What shall we do if she be a muggle?!"

"I feel her call to me, Sir. Methinks her owe magic reached t' me. She be a magbob." He didn't mean to sound as though he was much more fond of her than he should be for a person who he just met when he said magbob, but they were amazing, it was the fact that out of all the generations after a squib was inherited in the line it somehow led to them becoming one, and usually a pretty inspiring and amazing one.

"Wherefore her magic call to thee?" His father had a look on his face that told him he knew the reason, the real question was why didn't he just tell him himself? He sort of could figure why it was not the 'Malfoy way' to have it just be given to you. You had to figure it out yourself, but he could tell there was another reason behind it, Draco often prided himself in how perceptive he was and he didn't show that he knew what his father was truly thinking, it would be considered uncouth to do so.

"I shall seek the answers."

* * *

He stayed by her dripping wet form for hours and watched as her pale olive skin regained some color and her breathing stabilized. Her hair continued to drip droplets onto the map and he considered taking her to a bed but they had not prepared the guest room just yet. That was where his parents were, redecorating, his mother was excited always wanted at least a younger daughter. This was as close as she'd get he presumed. He watched as she stirred excitedly and her eyes fluttered open. What pretty eyes she had, those orbs reminded him of the color of hawthorn wood, it was a rich but warm color.

He grabbed her hand as she came to and shouted for his father.

They didn't come but he answered her questions.

Here came the question he wanted to answer and for her to answer the most.

"Draco Lucius Malfoy. Your title be?"

"Hermione Azaria Granger." 

"Hermione." He paused and then the thought occured to him, "Shakespeare?"

"Aye. Madame prate Shakespeare works."

They didn't talk much after that as his mother whisked her away. He stared at her retreating form.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While I still love this work, it felt as though this chapter didn't come out completely as I wanted, I still like the way it (hopefully) builds a bit more background on the circumstances that is currently going on within this time period in this story.


End file.
